


The Bronze

by whatdoyouthinkmyjobis



Series: Hunters on the Hellmouth [6]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Communication Failure, Crossover, Dancing, Dirty Thoughts, F/M, Flirting, Gambling, Kissing, Sexual Tension, The Bronze, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 06:14:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7423225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatdoyouthinkmyjobis/pseuds/whatdoyouthinkmyjobis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Buffy puts the Winchesters’ hunting skills to the test in Sunnydale’s favorite hangout.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bronze

Dean Winchester knew pain. He knew the pain of a hot poker searing his skin. He knew the bite of rope on his ankles and neck. He knew how to dig out a bullet, sew up his own flesh, and relocate his own shoulder. His fingers had been broken so often they had until recently bent at odd angles, the knuckles too thick. He had been stabbed, shot, and beaten more times than he could count. But this was a new kind of pain. “Sam, I don’t think I can do this.” 

“It’s just a nightclub, Dean. Try to relax.”  

No recent vampire victims were rising tonight. Buffy said that on some slow nights, she’d just walk around town searching for monsters, but other nights she liked to limit her patrols to The Bronze – an all ages club with pulsing lights, sweaty teenagers, and a stage boasting the best alternative bands Sunnydale could attract. A pale girl with orange dreadlocks moaned on stage while the two spiky haired guitar players in glittery shirts seemed to be playing a completely different song. 

“Isn’t this the best?” Dawn effused before spotting Xander in the crowd and rushing to meet him.  

“Haven’t tried the Hellmouth yet,” Dean muttered to no one.

“Not your scene, huh?” asked Buffy.

In lace up high heeled sandals, a tiny brown skirt, and a stringy orange halter he was certain he could untie with his teeth, she was dressed to fit in, not fight. She’d even curled her hair and put on sparkly makeup. Dean got the impression it wasn’t the club she’d dressed up for.

“I’m more of a dive bar kinda guy.”

She prodded the faded AC/DC logo on his chest. “Cue feigned surprise.” Her hand lingered.

“Even if you don’t really care for it, this place is a vampire buffet – alcohol and hormones and poor, misguided youth. Kids today. Always getting themselves eaten. Keeps a Slayer busy.” 

Dean, resting his hand on the bare small of her back, leaned down to her ear. “Did you have any plans for tonight besides looking out for poofies?”

Before her mouth could catch up to her bedroom eyes, someone punched his shoulder. Sam stood next to him, looking pissed. “Dean. We’re over there.” He pointed at Dawn and Xander at a tall table.

Buffy took a step back. “I’m going to do a quick look around. I’ll join you guys in a bit.”

Dean soaked in the sight of her well-formed legs and silky back before she was engulfed by the crowd. Then, jaw clenched, he glared at his little brother. “The fuck was that?”

“You said you’d thought about this with more than your dick. We don’t need you literally screwing over the only ally we have. We’re in a club full of pretty women. Go pick one of them up.”

“…but I hardly know her!” Xander said as they walked up.

Dawn threw her head back and laughed a little too hard.

“Hi Xander!” Sam smiled and waved.

“Winchesters! Nice of you to join us. You know, hanging out with the boss after hours is not going to earn you brownie points.” Once they had agreed to stay in Sunnydale until Willow’s return, Xander offered them off-the-books positions on his construction crew where they’d just finished their first week. “Although, I will probably fuel embarrassing stories after a few more margaritas. Please, don’t tell the guys.”

“Margaritas?”

“No magic elixir exists that will imbue me with machismo, so why pretend? How’s week one of Slayer bootcamp worked for you?”

“Dusting poofies every night!”

“I like the dusty part,” said Sam. “It’s so much tidier than disposing of bodies.”

“‘Disposing of bodies.’ I’m going to hear a lot of casually disturbing things from you two, aren’t I?”

The brothers shrugged in unison.

“Casually disturbing.”

“Xander, tell them the story you just told me. Xander just told me the funniest story!”

“Nah, Dawnie, it wasn’t that great.”

“C’mon!”

“Okay, so this woman walks into a bar. It wasn’t a bar like this though. More of a bar bar. Anyway…”

Dean faded out of the conversation and surveyed the room. At the crowded bar, the pretty bartender shooed away a knot of green-braceleted minors. The dance floor vibrated with mostly girls and a smattering of guys bumping and grinding to varying success. Enough couples were making out on the couches against the wall, that it looked like an orgy was about to break out.

He found himself a little jealous of those couples. The last time he’d kissed a woman was Pamela in Heaven when they were both dead. Dead kisses didn’t count. He hadn’t even kissed the last woman he hooked up with. It had been quick and dirty with a stripper in the women’s restroom after her shift. Sex was always a good thing, but Dean preferred to take his time, really work a woman over until her whole body tingled and her eyes sparkled. Women remembered a man who had licked and rubbed and sucked every nerve to attention.

The last woman he’d been able to savor was Anna nearly a year ago. As a person, she was sweet and scared but brave. She also didn’t want to give up her humanity before she gave up her virginity. Virgins weren’t a special thrill for him; he preferred a woman with experience, but he tried to be good to her. Lots of kissing, gentle caresses and other romantic touches girls think will be involved their first time. Unfortunately, after returning to her angel status, she tried to carry out a hit on them that resulted in her own death. Dean would certainly always remember Anna, but not for the sex.

The sad fact was his game had tapered off. Dean wasn’t sure if it was because he’d entered his thirties or because he’d been too busy fighting Heaven and Hell. He hoped it was the Apocalypse. Maybe Sam was right. Instead of focusing so much on Buffy, maybe he should try to get back in the swing of things. He was Dean Fucking Winchester and could leave the women of Sunnydale breathless and wanting. Resolving to hit up a real bar as soon as the hunt ended, he resumed scanning the crowd, but he couldn’t break away from the sight of a familiar blonde weaving her way back through the throng of bodies.

“Please, tell me you found some poofies outside. This place is really making me want to kill things.”

Buffy smiled, her tongue darting quickly over her glossed lips. “A few, but inside.”

“Where?”

“See if you can spot them. I want to know how good you are at ‘hunting.’”

“What are you going to be doing?”

“Dancing. You wanna come?”

“Supergirly, I don’t dance.”

“Not even with me?” She bit her bottom lip then smiled, all passion dressed as innocence.

“Absolutely not.”

“Fine. Hey, Dawnie! You want to dance?” Dawn scampered after her big sister heading for the crowded dance floor.

Dean must have been ogling, because Sam hissed in his ear, “There are fifty other women here. Pick a different one!”

“Hey, she said search the crowd for the poofies!”  

“Her ass is not the crowd. Two poof – damn it! – vampires? Three? What?”

“Didn’t say. She wants to know if we can find ‘em.”

Sam, nearly a head taller than everyone else, examined the room. “I’m going to head up there,” he pointed at the balcony. “Check the bar.”

Once Sam left, Dean went back to staring at Buffy. Her body, both arms in the air, midriff exposed, had found the music in whatever was happening on the stage. The rhythm of her hips and bounce of her breasts left Dean hypnotized. He wished he was on his knees kissing her tight stomach, hands inching up her thighs, his mouth and fingers meeting in the middle for the real fun.

“She’s entrancing, isn’t she?” asked Xander.

“Huh?”

“Buffy. Once you meet her, get to know her, it’s hard to look away. Took me a year to get back up, I fell for her so hard.” 

Dean cocked an eyebrow at Xander. “You sure you don’t still have a thing for Buffy?”

“God no! We’d be terrible together anyway. She’d always be saving my neck. I’d always be losing my manhood with the squealing and the crying. She’d get pissed at me. I’d be terrified of her. Not great for my ego.” He slurped the dregs of his margarita.

* * *

 

Sam cared about his brother more than anyone in the world, but sometimes Dean didn’t think with his upstairs brain. Dean wanted to sleep with Buffy. Understandable. She was pretty, fun and clearly interested. Trouble was, even if she said she was okay with a fling – and Dean, to his credit, always made his intentions perfectly clear – Buffy was going to fall for him. She was in an emotional place, and spending so much time with Dean was bound to result in feelings he wouldn’t want to deal with. On the off-chance that Dean could keep his wandering dick focused on one woman for the next few weeks, how would Buffy react when they left? Seemingly, no one else in the entire damn country knew anything about the supernatural world. They needed to keep a healthy relationship with her.

He leaned on the balcony railing, brooding over Dean and Buffy while pretending to scan the bouncing crowd.

A familiar voice groaned, “Oh, you’re still here.”

About five feet away, Anya also leaned on the railing. Last time he’d seen her, she’d immediately presented herself as a sex toy and told him they could never be together all within half an hour. The bluntness of her first declaration surprised him, but not seeing her didn’t entirely appeal to him either. She was a little weird, a little forward, yet she had brains and an off-beat, classic prettiness about her. She’d also helped them when she didn’t have to.

“Yeah, Buffy asked if we could stick around until Willow gets back.”

“I’m sorry. You’ve mistaken my statement for interest.” She did not look happy.

“Anya, did I do something to piss you off? You’re kind of hard to read.”

“That’s not fair. Everyone tells me to be less direct, and you tell me I’m hard to read. I can’t be both. Maybe it’s just everyone else, huh? Everyone else is Englishing wrong, and I’m the lone island of proper communication.”

Sam had no idea what she was talking about, but she was alone and sad. And pretty. Tonight, her short brown hair was curled, lending a softness to her scowl. She wore a fitted navy dress with red trim that looked straight from a World War II movie.

“Sounds like you’ve had a bad day.”

“Try bad year.”

“Want to talk about it?”

Anya pursed her lips and squinted at him as if trying to read fine print on his forehead. “No,” she replied, “but you’re really cute so I don’t want you to leave either. How is finding yourself going?”

Sam grinned. “Not so great, but we’ve made some progress.” He filled her in on the demon connection.

“You killed Azazel, Lilith and Alistair?”

“I only killed Lilith and Alistair. Dean killed Azazel.” He let himself gloat for a moment. He could pretend to be a hero without her knowing the dark depths he’d gone to.

Anya squeezed the railing. “Those demons are pretty high up Hell’s food chain. Scary bunch.”

“And now they won’t kill anyone else.”

“Is that your game? Demons that kill people die, or all demons die? You know, Buffy only goes after soulless creatures that have done harm to humans. It’s sort of a truce. It works in her favor, too. She doesn’t have to worry about killing all the little imps and sprites of Hell, and she gets some intel on the Underworld.”

“I thought all demons lived to harm humans.”

“No. Humans aren’t the only things on the planet, you know. Some are only scourges to disgusting bunnies or alge. Demons are a diverse and sadly misunderstood group.”

“Sounds like you know a lot about them.”

“Me?” Anya squeaked. “I just like to read and learn. Yes, books…good. I’ve read plenty about demons, demon dimensions, but I’ve never read anything about angels. Tell me more about them.”

* * *

 

Xander sat alone, weighing his choice of nachos or mozzarella sticks. Dean had gone in search of the vampires Buffy said were in The Bronze, but Xander suspected he just couldn’t watch her dance anymore without drooling. She had that effect.

Dawn’s often sullen face lit up as the girls took over the dance floor. He wished the Summers girls had more moments like this, light and meaningless and fun. The idea behind the Winchester’s staying in Sunnydale for a bit was that Buffy could get her bearings and spend more time with her little sister before they were both thrown into their respective school schedules. However, the reality this week had been that Dawn spent as many nights alone or hanging out with him as usual while Buffy escorted the handsome new men in her life around town.

Breathless and smiling, the Summeres returned where Xander had a Coke and a fuzzy navel waiting. Immediately, Buffy wanted to know where Dean had gone.

“You told him to look for vampires, which is also what Sam is doing.”

Buffy frowned and sipped her drink.

Xander turned to Dawn. “How’s your self-defense training going? Staked a vampire yet? When can I start calling you Dawn, The Mighty?”

“Nah, that’s kind of on hold.” She didn’t look sad about this so much as resigned.

“Buff, freshman year at Hellmouth High is looming. Didn’t you say you wanted Dawn prepared? Ya know, books, calculator, crosses, holy water. The usual.”

“I’m going to take her out again, Xander. I’ve just been a little busy with Dean and Sam.”

“Uh-huh. I thought them staying was supposed to make you less busy.”

“They don’t know anything about Sunnydale, the Hellmouth, or how vampires work. I don’t want to send them out there to get killed so I can have a night with Dawn.”

“Or you just want to be alone with them.”

“With Dean in particular,” piped Dawn.

“Oh my God, will you two stop it with the sitting-in-a-tree taunting?”

Dawn rolled her eyes. “Oh, is that all you want to do?”

Xander jumped between them. “There’s no denying you’ve developed a romantic pattern: vampire scum, tall Midwesterner, vampire scum, tall Midwesterner. I prefer this side of the pendulum swing, but let’s call a spade a spade.”

“So what if I like Dean? I’m an adult. I can make my own choices!”

“But your last choice was Spike.”

“Don’t you think I learned something from that, or do I still need to be punished for my mistakes?” Buffy slammed her drink down on the table, spilling it.

“Buff, I –”

“Shut up, okay?”

* * *

 

Black cloud over her, alcohol and orange juice on her, Buffy stormed toward the bar. Of course, Xander was complaining about Dean; it was his favorite thing to do with any guy she looked at twice. Considering her history, Xander should be kissing her feet for not seeking out another boyfriend wrapped up in a secret government organization or who struggled with deadness. Dean was a nice guy behind the cocky exterior. Besides, he was tall and kissable, and when he looked at her she felt the good tingles. Couldn’t she want a fling with a perfectly decent guy without everyone else offering their opinions? Was nothing else worth examining going on in Sunnydale except her (lack of) love life?

The bartender was at the opposite end of the bar. She had pronounced curves, long dark hair, and a clearly visible tramp stamp. Buffy thought she looked a little cheap, a little desperate, and a little like Faith.

“Excuse me!” said Buffy, trying to get her attention, before she saw what was so engrossing.

Dean. He was wearing the boyish charm smile and laughing, doing shots with Cheaper Faith and looking at her like she was the only woman in the room. 

“Excuse me!” When he saw her, Dean practically choked on whatever he was swilling. Good. “I need to clean up a mess. Can I get a towel?” 

With little more than a dismissive glance, the bartender tossed her a bar mop. Leaning over to accentuate her ample breasts, she asked Dean if he wanted anything else.

“Yeah Dean,” Buffy said, “do you like something you see or everything you see?” Too disgusted to wait for a response, she stormed away.

* * *

 

Sam and Anya had moved to a sunken couch where she explained in impressionistic detail why she wasn’t hanging out with the rest of Sunnydale’s monster squad. “She thinks she can control everyone and everything. I don’t want to go along with it.”

“Well, Buffy is stuck being the Slay–”

“God!” Anya rolled her eyes and threw her hands in the air. “If I have to hear that one more time!”

“I know,” said Sam.

“You do?”

“Not the Slayer stuff so much, but definitely the attitude. If Dean tells me ‘Because I said so’ or ‘Because I’m your big brother’ one more time, I may punch him.”

“You two don’t get along?”

“We get along great. We’re just brothers.”

Anya stroked her empty glass and glanced at him through her thick lashes. “So do you hunt demons because you like it, or do you hunt demons because Dean likes it?”

Sam leaned back and sighed. She wasn’t one for small talk. “Originally, because my dad didn’t give me a choice. Then, I was out for revenge. Now I’m just trying to stay alive.”

“Stay alive? Are demons after you?”

Sam flashed his dimples in a nervous laugh. “Well, you kill enough monsters and they get a little pissy. But I’ve sort of been dominating the conversation! Tell me about yourself, Anya. Are you from Sunnydale? What do you do?”

She threw her head back and laughed like she’d learned it from TV Land, while reaching out to stroke his chest and arms. “Oh, Sam, you’re so funny!”

“Is getting to know you some sort of joke I’m missing?” With wide-eyed panic, Anya grabbed Sam’s face and planted a wet kiss on his lips.

Unfortunately, Dean chose that moment to check on him. “Well, ain’t this cozy?”

Sam bolted upright. “What are you doing?”

“Not as good as you, I see,” said Dean with a knowing grin.

“You know you’re an ass, right?” Anya blurted.

“Been told.”

“Anya was just telling me about demons and demon…stuff.”

“Uh-huh.” Dean raised his eyebrows. “Come on down with me.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to get the hell out of here, Sam. Got some business to handle first,” he snapped, grin gone, as he descended the stairs.

As he started to leave, Anya grabbed his arm. “Be careful with Buffy. She and her friends, they use people. And when you’re used up, they spit you right back out.”

* * *

 

Buffy watched Dean and Sam whispering by the pool tables and felt like an idiot. Minutes after defending her interest in him, she finds Dean flirting with another woman.

_Who did he think he was with his mossy green eyes and glowing smile and kissable freckles? Did he think he could just pick up anyone with his plump, pink lips and tall, strong body?_

She tore her eyes away from him and pouted at the table, ignoring Xander’s prodding for conversation.

She had no claim to Dean Winchester. She was probably just one of a long list of women he kept dreaming about him.

Even so, she wasn’t the average woman. She was the nightmare of nightmares. She’d ended more than one apocalypse. She’d stopped a _god_. All while keeping up with school and current fashion trends. Who was he to think he could treat her like every other woman he’s notched on his belt? Buffy got up and marched toward the Winchesters.

“Buffy, Buff! What are you doing?”

“Expressing myself.”

“Oh God.” Xander and Dawn hastily followed.

Sam was sloppy drunk. His words slurred as he leaned on the pool table for support. “Wow! You’re, like, super good at this!” he said to a slender man with red hair who was counting a thick stack of twenties.

“Been playing a long time.”

“Can I play you?” Sam could barely stand upright.

The man’s posse laughed. “Tell you what. You play my friend first,” He pointed at a man with a hawkish face, “then we’ll see.”

Sam nodded eagerly and slapped some money on the table. “Yeah! Yeah! Okay!”

Buffy crossed her arms and glared at Dean. “I see you’ve been busy tonight.”

His eyes jumped from Sam to the other men around the table, but never to her. “Now’s not a good time, Buffy.”

“I’m sorry, were you waiting for someone? Do you need to pencil me in?”

Now he turned to her, eyes narrowed, lips tight. “I know you don’t trust me right now, but just trust me, okay?”

His cheeks were pink, and he smelled strongly of whiskey. How long had he been doing shots with the bartender? “Are you drunk?”

He eyed her wet top and skirt. “Are you, Supergirly?”

“Don’t call me that.”

The hawk-faced man had mopped the floor with lost puppy Sam who begged, “Hey, man, let’s do another. I wasn’t in the zone.”

The red head waved a dismissive hand. “Boy, go home.”

“But I have more money.” Sam presented a fat wad of cash.

The shark smirked. “Well, in that case, it’s stripes and solids.” He tossed his wager on the table. “I’ll even let you break.”

“You are doing an excellent job of taking care of your brother, by the way,” Buffy hissed. “He’s in zero danger. Gold star.”

Sam tuned into the rack and sank two stripes on the break. He was sharp, swift, and not drunk at all. In three more turns, he’d cleared the table of stripes. He pointed at one of the pockets with his cue. “In.” A soft tap, and the 8-ball was sunk.

Sam picked up the kitty and waved it in front of his opponent. “Thanks.”

“Okay, gang, we gotta go.” Dean tried to steer Buffy’s elbow, but she shook him off.

“Hands off!” She only followed him because she had to, and because she was considering kicking him in the knee later.

Sam and Dean were out the front door and waiting by the corner of the building by the time Buffy, Dawn and Xander caught up to them.

Xander, hands clutching his hair, was freaking out. “Dude! That was awesome! You were full-on _Cool Hand Luke_ back there!”

Sam blushed a little and replied, “Thanks, Xander, but you should really take Dawn home.”

Dawn looked hurt. “What? No! I’m having fun!”

“Dawn!” Buffy commanded. “Go with Xander.”

“Just because you’re all whaa-whaa doesn’t mean I should be punished,” she snapped at her sister.

“Hey! Listen to your sister,” Dean barked. “This ain’t about fun or punishment, kiddo.”

“No,” said a voice behind them. “It’s about us.” It was the ginger Sam and swindled, and his fangs were out. Behind him stood two more vampires. Down the alley to their right another three. 

_Shit_. 

“Xander and Dawn, run. Dean, if they’re followed, run after them. Sam, you and I are going to direct the lot of them into the alley. Everybody got their stakes? Let’s go!”

Buffy threw her stake at a vampire in the alley, dusting him immediately. Sam elbowed one in the face, cracked it’s head on his knee, and stabbed it through the back. The ginger lunged at Buffy, but she tucked and rolled, picking up her weapon in the process. She spun, kicked his feet out, and staked him as he fell.

* * *

 

Xander and Dawn bolted. Two vampires followed. Dean dragged the first one to the ground as he tried to run past and quickly dusted him. Leaping to his feet, he took off after Xander, Dawn, and their unwanted fan. As he rounded the corner, he heard Dawn screaming. Xander was on his hands and knees disoriented. The vampire had Dawn by the hair.

“Hey, dickwad!” Dean yelled. “Pick on someone your own size!”

He punched the vampire in the jaw. It snarled and swiped at him with its free hand. Dean grabbed the arm, twisted it behind the vampire, and staked it through the back while it squealed. After checking that Xander was cognizant enough to look after Dawn, Dean ran back to the alley where he found his brother doing away with the last of the pool shark vampires.

“You bagged four?” he asked.

Sam nodded. “Hope you got two.”

“Yeah. Dawn and Xander are around the corner. They’re okay.”

Buffy breathed a sigh of relief. “How did you know they were vampires?”

“The bartender gave me a rundown of the regulars. They sounded shady. How did you know?”

“Slayer sense.”

He looked her up and down, not in the bedroom way he had when they’d arrived. Her knees and elbows scraped, her skin covered in dirt, oil, and other alley filth. One of her shoe straps hung loose. A couple bandages wasn’t bad for an uneven alley brawl.

“You don’t look half bad.”

“Shut up, Dean! If you’re not interested, then go pick up that bartender, but you don’t get to comment on me.” Buffy ripped off her shoes and stomped down the street toward Xander and Dawn.


End file.
